The Fox and the Serpent
by Zuridian
Summary: The Books of Belshalara. Coupling of Lillandyr Shadowglade and Vassiago.


Lillandyr Shadowglade, Marquis of the Flesh Quarter.  
Look at her.  
Those golden locks of soft hair, the shimmer of her porcelain skin. The way she twisted and turned in front of that mirror, displaying inadvertently elegant curves and sensuous lines. And the dress wasn't half bad either.  
Vassiago pushed off from the door, where he stood to watch her. His eyes glittered behind that unfeeling mask as he stepped in behind her and their eyes met in the mirrors glass. He rested his gloved hands on her shoulders.  
"We're worried about you," he purred against her cheek.  
The glint in his eyes told a different story. If she were to look close enough she could see the greed and growing impatience there. The look of a small child coveting candy it cannot have.

Lillandyr knew. Many times before she almost gave in to him but something always held her back. Something that now reflected in the small snoot of disdain that curved her lips. Although she did not brush his hands away. Nor did she step out of his reach as she usually did when he touched her inappropriately. Could it be, the Lady Shadowglade might be crumbling under his advances?  
"Don't be ridiculous, Vassiago. There is nothing to worry about," she fluttered, and flipped her hair back over her shoulder. It swatted his mask and filled his nostrils with the scent of sweet honey and roses.

His eyes narrowed and his hands skimmed down along the creamy skin of her arms. Skin so soft it felt like polished warm marble under his gloved fingertips. Smooth, thanks to all the oils and essences she liked to bathe in. His touch lingered there, by her wrists. His stare hard and calculating. A shiver went through her and she finally did pull away, putting distance between them.

Lillandyr dropped herself on the chaise lounge, impetuous, a little moue spoke of her displeasure with his forward candor. She watched him meander, touching her things with dancing fingertips as he went. Here and there, and everywhere. He finally came to the credenza. Upon it, on display, the music-box carousel Merris gifted her. Vassiago leaned close, discerning all the fine details that went into the delicate structure. It was truly a masterpiece.  
He slowly turned his head and the smile on his mask took on a mocking quality.  
"Indeed, not a worry in the world, my Lady." His glove shimmered in the candle light as he stroked the delicate edges of the trinket like a lover. "We do not wonder why the Lady likes to keep sentimental reminders, no we do not."

She frowned and pulled her legs up on the chaise, hugging her knees tightly. The silky material of her dress rustled in hushed whispers. Lillandyr didn't have a reply for him, though she did eye his antics with that carousel shrewdly, nervously rubbing her forearm, before she composed herself again. It wasn't wise to show weakness.

It was already too late. Vassiago tilted his head and flicked the switch. The carousel came to life, spinning slowly, emanating an eerie melody. He was clearly pleased with himself, judging by the way he propped his chin up on his steepled velveteen fingers. The smile on his mask seemed to be carved a lot deeper as his sharp eyes took in every nuance of the effect the music had on her.  
Subtle at first. With the soft tinkle of the music, the air seemed to stir, heat and thicken. Where Lillandyr looked displeased moments ago, a soft blush now bloomed on her skin and, oh my, how lovely she was.  
She gasped. "What did you... No!" But the way she sucked in another breath screamed 'Yes!' Especially when she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Concern quickly turned to arousal.  
Vassiago purred as he stalked closer, reaching out with one hand. "Yes," he snickered softly, "This pleases us, yes?" He nodded quickly and instead of approaching her head on, he dodged around behind the chaise lounge, hugging the high back in a dramatic display. "It pleases us when the Lady touches herself. It does?" His satiny glove was like a second skin on his hand as he dragged his finger down along her arm to her hand.

Her hand fluttered to the vee in her dress, tugging the fabric down with it. Her head rolled back, she looked up and from her angle she could see the elegant cut of his jaw under the mask. Even though the magic emanating from the music box made her pool for Merris, that's not who was poised over her now, was it? Lillandyr slowly shook her head, no.  
But she couldn't have what she really wanted, and this - she reached out and skimmed the edge of that mask with a delicate stroke of her finger - this was interesting all in its own right. Perhaps this could take the sting out of Merris' rejection. Her lip curled cruelly. Maybe this could soothe her battered ego just a tiny fraction. Yes, the smile deepened and she reached for Vassiago with both hands. The music box played on, its haunting melody set the tone for the dance she was about to embark on with this man.

Vassiago came over the high back of the chaise like he was on fire. Yes, this was where he needed to be right now. Carelessly, he snaked his fingers into the neck of her dress and tore it right down the center, exposing the pale swell of her breasts, tipped with the pinkest nipples he's ever laid eyes on. They were exquisite and when Lillandyr arched up into his grasp, he gladly twisted them in that certain way that wrenched a moan from her parted lips.  
He did it again, harder, twisting her delicate buds ruthlessly. The offset between the soft satin of his gloves and the hard grasp of his fingers sent her into orbit. She shot up and reeled him in. Her lips were at his throat, her teeth scoring his skin. Vassiago cackled wildly as he dialed up the heat some more with another brutal twist. And when that was not enough, he tore her dress further, shredded it completely until she lay under him exposed and raggedly naked.  
Vassiago was still gurgling with laughter as he bent over her, freed himself from the confines of his pants and drove his turgid erection straight to her core. There was no finesse, no foreplay, only this.  
The moment he entered her, the music stopped.

Now it was only them. Lillandyr, frozen in the throes of artificially induced passion, and Vassiago, who knew damn well he was taking advantage of her desires.  
There was an awkward moment where the only motion was that of his thick flesh pulsing in her tight heat. That moment where she decided whether she actually wanted this or not.  
But then she made up her mind.  
If she fought him to throw him off, then this would be rape. but if she enjoyed the - admittedly delightful - fullness at her center, then there was no weakness. Only relief of base urges, right? She looked up into those crystalline hard eyes of his and something happened. A shock at her spine. And then she moved with him. Slowly and deliberately undulating her hips, grinding against him, she actively took Vassiago into her body. She worked to take her own pleasure.

He approved; hardened further and found her rhythm. That evil grin on his mask matched the gleam in the amber eyes behind it. Vassiago finally got what he wanted. And as they both churned towards their apex, he realized he once again possessed something Merris couldn't have.  
Another piece of the puzzle.  
This pleased him, and when he felt Lillandyr shudder and cry out with her release, he too followed suit. He swan dove over the edge, detached, as he felt his body empty itself into her still quivering heat.

A heartbeat went by where all the sound in the room was snuffed out. Then time proceeded in its normal track again and both their labored breaths cut through the silence. Vassiago pulled away and righted his wardrobe even as Lillandyr cast him a troubled glance and, best she could, pulled her ruined dress together.  
It was by no means ideal, what they've done. Another sidelong glance told her this was far from it when Vassiago flourished a courtly bow in her direction and then wordlessly danced out of her chamber. She could not even be sure she felt anything, knowing full well he did not. Even if the evidence of their coupling still clung to the inside of her thigh.  
"Nothing wrong at all," she sighed as she rang for a maid servant to draw her a bath.


End file.
